


Give and Take

by Anysia



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Het, Humor, Inspired by Fanart, Making Up, Oral Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:39:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anysia/pseuds/Anysia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They fight, and they argue, but they somehow always manage to make it work. Sometimes you’ve just got to give a little.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give and Take

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this bit of absolutely fantastic NSFW Kristanna fanart](http://the-cupcake-crusader.tumblr.com/post/69452704065/kristanna-smut-doodle) from Tumblr user the-cupcake-crusader, written with permission. Because the world will never have enough Kristanna smut.

Anna and Kristoff fight over nothing as much as royal functions.

 

Anna adores them — they’re all vibrancy and light, with people and food and music and so much of _everything,_ all the things that she’d been denied for so long. She’ll kick off her shoes and twirl around the dance floor, a euphoric, bright-eyed dervish, isolation and silence long-distant memories.

 

Kristoff despises them.

 

He’s tried to enjoy them, mostly because Anna does, and he enjoys _her_ so very much. But at the one and only ball she’d managed to drag him to, he’d mostly stood self-consciously in the corner, watching Anna and desperately wishing he was anywhere but here (preferably with Anna in tow, preferably with the two of them unsupervised, and _very_ preferably with Anna biting her lip in that obliviously tantalizing way and finding her dress suddenly far too warm to keep wearing).

 

There are just so many tedious layers to the balls and receptions and various events he has no real name for that are absolute anathema to a roughspun ice harvester like himself, all stiff collars and gracious nods and he never knows how he’s supposed to stand or when to bow or if he’s allowed to scratch himself in his stiff, horribly itchy formal suit.

 

And then there was the dancing. Anna had managed to drag him out to the dance floor for exactly one waltz, while the other guests in attendance stared at him, this too-large, too-awkward common man standing far too close to the princess, and he’d felt a stab of petty pride and possessiveness and pulled her just a bit closer than entirely necessary for the dance.

 

Of course, that pride had completely disappeared the moment they’d started moving, as Anna pressed her hand comfortingly tight to his shoulder and tried her best to steer him into a series of graceful turns, and he moved about with all the grace of Sven scrambling for purchase on a frozen lake.

 

Kristoff had managed to look so uncomfortable and openly miserable that Anna actually released him from the dance early, drawing him into a tight hug and kissing him on the dance floor, there in front of everybody, until Elsa cleared her throat meaningfully nearby and she grinned up at him and wandered off to dance with some bland, interchangeable nobleman.

 

He’d retreated into the corner to tug at his collar and gaze longingly toward the door.

 

There had been a small throng of well-dressed people, likely titled and oblivious, standing just a short distance away, and they stared at him, appraising and disdainful.

 

Kristoff had stared back, crossing his arms over his broad chest and leaning against a pillar, waiting for it to start, as it always did, in voices just loud enough to be heard and noted.

 

Yes, he was the peasant boy who had somehow wormed his way into the royal family. Just a passing fancy for the princess, no doubt, she was such an odd girl. Likely he was just a bit of spirited adventure for her before she married properly — scandalous, to be sure, but the princess was known to be a bit… well.

 

Rather vulgar for a common man to be seen amongst them like that, to actually place his filthy workman’s hands on the princess and kiss her in full view of polite society. What was Arendelle coming to, honestly?

 

He’d stared at them as they spoke, long enough and intently enough that they finally noticed his strong build and carefully moved away.

 

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before.

 

But it still stung on some deep, visceral level to be reminded of it.

 

Kristoff had shifted his gaze to Anna as she danced, her hair disheveled, cheeks flushed from exertion, a bright, open smile stretching across her face. She was so beautiful, and precious, and absolutely everything to him.

 

But she was still the princess.

 

And no amount of stiff collars or awkward dancing would ever make him a prince.

 

 

 

The next time a ball was announced, he’d arranged to be on an extended harvesting trip.

 

At the next, he’d told Anna that he was overseeing the rest of the ice harvesters with a rather large shipment from the western peaks.

 

"It’s October," Anna had said skeptically when he’d announced that one. "How much ice do we still _need_?”

 

"More than you think," he’d responded, hoping that he’d managed to keep his features steady and expressionless. He had a terrible tendency to blush and ramble on the very infrequent occasions that he lied, something Anna was well aware of.

 

"Can’t someone else go?"

 

"Official Ice Master duties, Anna. It’s my job."

 

She’d sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, but she’d still let him kiss her, and she’d still let him peel away all the layers of her formal gown the night before the ball and smooth his hands over her soft, pale skin, and she’d still keened and gripped his hips tightly as he slid inside her, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, her lips and ignoring, just for now, the space between them.

 

 

 

By the time the third ball comes around, Anna doesn’t ask him to go, and he doesn’t offer.

 

Kristoff assumes that they’re both fine with that arrangement — doubtless she knows how uncomfortable he is with the formal arrangements, and she’s so exuberant and joyous even without him there. He’d seen her as she’d whirled about, bright and fierce — that was all Anna, and she didn’t need him there to be that.

 

He plans to spend the evening taking care of logistics — Sven’s in need of a good hoof-cleaning, and he really needs to take a second look at the ledgers for the previous month’s harvesting.

 

He stops by Anna’s room to wish her goodnight.

 

When she opens the door, her hair neatly braided and twisted into a simple chignon, clad in her formal gown, she takes one long look at him and slams the door in his face.

 

Kristoff stands there, blinking at the door in abject confusion for a long, long moment, before knocking again.

 

"Anna?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

"Go _away_ ,” her irritated voice sounds from the other side of the door.

 

"Uh… I was planning to? I was just coming to say good night."

 

"Good _night_ , then. Don’t let me keep you from everything that keeps you away from me.”

 

Kristoff sighs and rests his forehead against the door. “Anna, what are you talking about?”

 

He yelps as the door suddenly opens inward, and he stumbles and lands in a heap at Anna’s feet as she looks down at him, her features somewhere between a scowl and a pained frown.

 

"…hi," he offers lamely. She doesn’t smile.

 

"There’s a ball tonight," she says, fisting her hands in the fabric of her skirts.

 

"Yeah. I know."

 

"There have been a few of them."

 

He nods, unsure of her point.  

 

Anna’s shoulders drop, and she bites her lip. “Is it that bad?” she asks, and her voice is full of unspoken hurt. “Would it kill you to go?”

 

"Anna," Kristoff says awkwardly, pulling himself into a kneeling position. She’s at her full height and still he reaches to her collarbone. "All of this royal stuff and I… just don’t mix. Do you remember what happened at the last one?"

 

"I do," she says. "You weren’t there. You weren’t there at the one before that, either."

 

"Well, the last one I was at, then. I was just… obvious and completely out of place."

 

"It was the last one I actually enjoyed."

 

He doesn’t know what to say, and settles for staring at her, a question in his eyes.

 

Anna crosses her arms over her chest and avoids his gaze. “I just… there’s so _much_ to them, all of these rules and formal things to do, and you’d think I’d be better at them, I mean, I was _raised_ to be better at them, well, I mean, _good_ with them, but…” She sighs. “I want to be able to just eat chocolate and dance and _enjoy_ myself, you know?”

 

"So what’s stopping you? You were doing fine when I was there."

 

She stares at him meaningfully. “ _Because_ you were there,” she says. “Kristoff, I… I know it’s still a lot to ask of you to be able to handle all of this stuff… it’s a lot for _me_. But I hate having to dance with all of these princes and noblemen and not have you to come to afterwards, and I hate not knowing that you’re there keeping an eye on me just in case something happens and I hate… I just hate you not _being_ there.”

 

She turns slightly, can’t meet his gaze. “And I just keep thinking,” she says, and her voice is soft and quiet, almost an aside to herself, “what if it really _is_ too much? I know you just… want to be out in the mountains with Sven and your ice and you hate confined spaces and you don’t like being around that many people… but it’s what I have to do. And I just… kept seeing you running off to those mountains, and I was alone again, and I…”

 

She takes a deep, shuddery breath, and Kristoff feels a sharp, sudden pain deep in his chest. “…I kept thinking that maybe this would be the time you wouldn’t come back.”

 

He stands and pulls her into his arms in one swift, sudden movement, tucking her against his chest, arms tight around her as she tries not to cry.

 

"I’m never leaving you," he says, pressing his cheek into her hair. "Never. Never think that."

 

"It’s not going to get any easier," Anna says, turning her face in against his chest. "I’ll still be the princess and you’ll still have to wear a suit sometimes and you’ll still be completely miserable."

 

Kristoff thinks for a long moment, absently rubbing his thumb along the base of her spine. “Well,” he says finally, “that’s true, anyway. But you’re probably worth it.”

 

Anna turns a slightly teary smile up at him. “Think so?”

 

He presses a soft, warm kiss to her forehead. “Probably.”

 

"I love you, you know."

 

"I know."

 

Anna smiles, open and warm, and she leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him, curving one hand around the back of his neck. He anticipates soft, chaste, a brief meeting and parting of lips, but she holds on just a bit too long, tilting her head and lightly licking at his lips and humming at the back of her throat.

 

Kristoff secretly loves it when they fight, just for this part.

 

"How much time do you have?" he asks, voice husky as he nips at her earlobe, hands sliding up her sides.

 

"Not… mm… long enough, unfortunately," Anna says, pressing a kiss to his throat, taking his hands in hers and pressing them to her clothed breasts, warm and wide. "They should be coming to get me in just a few minutes."

 

Kristoff’s eyes are dark as he leans down to kiss her, hard, and he moves away to swiftly close her bedroom doors and slide the lock in place. “I can work with a few minutes.”

 

He kneels in front of Anna and begins collecting her skirts in his hands, frowning as he pulls them together and up. “How many layers does this thing need?” he asks rhetorically, handing the bundled skirts to Anna and ducking under them.

 

"Enough to…" She swallows hard as his fingers grasp the sides of her underwear and pull them down. "…to stop this, I think."

 

"Probably should have added a few more, then," he says, and she feels his breath and the vibration of his voice against her before his tongue, warm and wet in a slow, lascivious lick, and she nearly collapses before he curls one arm around her waist to support her.

 

There’s a knock at the door, and she starts, one hand dropping to rest on his head beneath her skirts, and he responds by closing his lips around her and suckling gently and she doesn’t know whether to scream or cry or punch him in the shoulder.

 

"Princess Anna?" the servant’s voice calls politely. "You’re requested in the ballroom."

 

"Just a minute!" Anna calls, and she knows her voice sounds strangled and desperate but her entire world has been reduced to Kristoff’s lips and tongue moving feverishly between her legs, and she blindly reaches for his hand and feels the curve of his smile against her as he squeezes it tight.

 

"Shall I tell your sister you’re briefly indisposed?" the servant asks, and Kristoff actually starts _laughing_ beneath her skirts and she smacks him hard on the back of the head, which seems like a good idea until he slides two fingers from his free hand into her and she’s suddenly biting at the back of _her_ hand against a scream.

 

“ _Yesthat’sfinethankyou_!” she manages to gasp, and then everything is Kristoff’s tongue and the languid slide of his fingers inside her and then she’s _there_ , crying out and nearly falling, his strong arms wrapping tight around her waist as she comes undone.

 

The world seems to take a moment to right itself, too long, and Anna is dazed and beautiful as Kristoff reappears from beneath her skirts and leans up to kiss her, and she grimaces slightly as she tastes herself on his lips but it’s not quite as bad as she’d expected.

 

"Thank you," she says, grinning despite herself and running a hand through his hair.

 

"I love you," Kristoff says simply, and she’s secretly pleased to hear it now, even if he hadn’t said it earlier.

 

Anna sighs and folds him into a hug as he continues to kneel, and he presses a kiss to her clothed breastbone. “Are you okay?” she asks, trailing her fingers down his side meaningfully.

 

"I’ll take care of it, don’t worry. Too much longer and they’re apt to send someone in here looking for you."

 

Anna kisses him again, then helps him stand. They laugh as they try to untangle her hopelessly rumpled skirts together, and Kristoff smooths back a few strands of her mussed hair.

 

"So," he says, "new compromise: I don’t have to go to any more royal functions and you don’t get mad at me _for_ not going if I can do that.”

 

Anna bites her lip, and it’s almost torturous when he’s still unsated like this, with Anna on his tongue and hands and looking so openly _gorgeous_ …

 

"One condition," she says finally, a deep flush coloring her cheeks as she suddenly avoids his gaze.

 

"What’s that?"

 

Anna smiles up at him through her eyelashes, somehow shy and coy all at once. “Next time it’s your turn?”

 

He stares at her.

 

Blinks once. Twice. Three times.

 

He silently turns from her and goes to the door.

 

"Kristoff?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

He tugs on the locked doors, inspects the bolt.

 

"Just checking," he says, before scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bed, bridal-style while she laughs and kisses his neck.

 

Neither of them make it to the ball that night.


End file.
